


Not a Drive-By

by CinnamonLily



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Disabled Stiles Stilinski, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Hurt Derek, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Multi, Past Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Rimming, Teacher Stiles Stilinski, hints of uncle/nephew incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-12 07:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17463482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnamonLily/pseuds/CinnamonLily
Summary: Decade from the first time Stiles ever met Derek, and a few years since they've last met, Stiles gets a call. He's left the supernatural world behind for the most part, but sometimes when the past comes calling, you have to answer. If all the puzzle pieces start to fall into place, who is he to object to that?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Green](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/gifts).



 

Stiles was grading papers for the history class he taught at the local high school, when his cell rang with an unknown number.

“Stiles Stilinski,” he grunted distractedly, frowning as he circled yet another leap of logic the student that most reminded him of himself at that age had made.

“Stiles, hi, I… wasn’t sure if this was the correct number,” a voice from the past said after a short pause.

“Derek?”

“Yeah, hi, sorry…. I…. You’re somewhere in Colorado, right?” A little hiss of pain followed Derek’s question, and it brought up so many memories that they tackled Stiles’s brain into the ground for a few seconds.

He capped the pen before he could get more red ink anywhere it didn’t belong. “Uh, yeah, I’m southeast from Denver, why?”

“I….” Derek hissed again and made another pained noise. Stiles listened closer and heard the hum of a car engine. “It’s just… I’m in eastern Utah at the moment, and let’s just say that I had an altercation with some hunters who didn’t like me—”

Stiles snapped into attention. “Derek Hale, are you driving while injured?”

Derek chuckled, then coughed. “Yeah, I just… I need a safe place to crash, with… with someone to watch over me so I can relax and heal. Just for a day or so. I’d go to someone else but—”

“There’s nobody else within five hours, at least. Okay, I’ll send you the address. Get here safe or I’ll kill you myself.”

Derek snorted. “Thank you, Stiles.”

 

As he waited for Derek, Stiles wondered why he wasn’t freaking out more. It’d been… three years since his last supernatural happenstance and that had been when he went back to his dad’s retirement party in Beacon Hills and accidentally discovered a pixie infestation in the woods behind the garden supply store.

It’d been ten years since Scott got bitten. Ten years since one Derek Hale, brooding and gorgeous, told them off for trespassing and confirmed to a sixteen-year-old Stiles that he was, indeed, bisexual.

He hadn’t seen Derek since… _Jesus._ It’d been a long time. Erica and Boyd’s wedding four years ago?

The old gang was spread all over the country now. The wolves were all part of different packs these days. Stiles figured it came with adulthood and being bitten.

Scott was the alpha of the Beacon Hills pack and kept an eye on the Hale lands that still belonged to Derek, Cora, and Peter. All three had been betas the last time Stiles had talked to any of them. Shit… was it… closer to a year since Cora had checked in and more than six months since Peter had? Probably.

It felt odd that Stiles still had more contact with them than Derek, given their history. Their… could’ve-been. Because yeah, there had been moments. Not all of the “being pushed into walls” incidents had been threats or keeping him safe, back then. But then, before anything really happened, things went south and so did Derek.

They’d been fine, mostly. All of them. And then college started, and they spread all over the country, and that was it. If Stiles was honest, he’d loved the peace he felt outside Beacon Hills. There’d been too many close calls, too many injuries that took too long to heal, and some that never had.

He limped to the bathroom cupboard to take out his emergency first aid kit. He had no idea what had actually happened to Derek and how bad he was hurt. Since he was still driving, Stiles hoped that thirty-something Derek had more sense than he’d had a decade ago.

At Erica and Boyd’s wedding, Derek had arrived with a date, a lovely young she-wolf who had been as smart as she was pretty. They’d seemed happy, although they hadn’t been dating for long at that point, Peter had told Stiles in between drinks.

That was the first time Stiles had seen a certain glint in Peter’s eyes when he looked at his nephew with the she-wolf. Stiles and Peter had had a friends with benefits thing going on since Stiles turned nineteen. These days it was rarely that they were in the same town, so nothing had happened between them since the wedding. But that weekend in Seattle had been… eye-opening.

Stiles hadn’t asked, but Peter had known Stiles had understood that his feelings toward his nephew weren’t just platonic. The problem there wasn’t the incesty quality of those feelings, Stiles had thought. It was that Peter didn’t feel worthy after all he’d done. Seeing Derek with someone who was a potentially great match had made him react enough for it to be obvious to Stiles.

By now, Stiles knew wolves were very different from humans. He’d done research even after leaving Beacon Hills, and every now and then Peter sent him more things to read from his travels. A nephew/uncle relationship would’ve been just fine in a pack’s eyes. At least a traditional pack’s. Stiles didn’t know how Derek felt about Peter, though, and wasn’t about to play matchmaker. Hell, patching Derek up and sending him back to his way would be for the best.

Maybe Derek was even dating someone? That would take temptation out of Stiles’s hands. Shit. He could’ve texted Erica to ask, but that’d be too obvious. Oh well.

Stiles took the first aid kit into the kitchen and went back to grading on the couch. It wasn’t good for his posture to be hunched on the couch like this and he’d pay for it later, but it’d be fine. At least he’d get something done.

 

He’d finished with the work and put away the papers when he felt the whoosh of a supernatural being passing through the first wards down the street where Derek entered the neighborhood. He got to his feet and tried his best to stretch before hobbling to the door, all the while counting down the rest of the wards being triggered.

He opened the door and realized it was getting dark already. He should make something for dinner. In the recent years his ADHD had channeled into something closer to ADD and he got lost in his work or research much too easily. If a colleague of his, Dena, didn’t go get groceries with him each week, he might starve. At least she said so.

The car that rolled to a stop in his short driveway behind his Toyota was a practical older model SUV. Nothing fancy. A dad car of sorts. Stiles flicked on the porch light and leaned to the doorframe to see if Derek needed help.

Not that Stiles would be much help, not with the chimaera related accident when he was nineteen. He could move and work, but he wouldn’t win any marathons or support a large werewolf’s weight anytime soon.

Derek half rolled, half stepped out of the car and leaned heavily on the driver’s side door.

“Nice wards,” he grunted, just loud enough for Stiles to hear.

“Jesus, Derek. Can you even make it here?” He made an aborted movement to try and help, but it wouldn’t benefit either of them if he injured himself as well.

“Yeah, just stiff from the drive.” Derek made his way to the porch slowly but steadily.

When he got into the light, Stiles could see he’d bled through his maroon sweater, the one with the thumb holes Stiles had always loved. He let out an annoyed sound at the bullet holes before looking at Derek’s face.

“What?” Derek asked, looking oddly… fond?

“This sweater. I liked it,” Stiles explained, tugging at the said shirt near a bullet hole on Derek’s abdomen. He glanced back at Derek’s face and ducked his head.

Derek smiled tiredly. “This old thing?”

“Sometimes old things are really good, though,” Stiles murmured, completely unable to prevent himself from flicking his gaze from Derek’s eyes to his lips and back, _damn it._ “Come on, let’s see how hurt you are, and you can tell me what even happened.”

Derek followed him inside and into the kitchen. He didn’t resist when Stiles pushed him to sit on one the stool by the tiny island that Stiles used to scarf down his breakfast at every morning.

“Take the shirt off,” Stiles instructed as he opened the first aid kit. He wobbled a little when he rounded the island again, and Derek’s hand shot out to hover by his elbow. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

Derek made a non-committal noise and continued to pull his shirt off. He dropped it on the floor and grimaced as he rolled his shoulders back and tried to sit straighter.

Stiles took a wad of kitchen towel and ran it under the faucet quickly, before mopping down most of the blood off Derek’s front.

“That’s a through and through, almost healed already. Regular bullets?” he asked, poking at the hole in Derek’s back.

“Warning shot, yeah.”

“What were you even doing to get hunters after you?” Stiles asked as he examined the rest of the injuries.

“I went through the wrong town in the middle of nowhere. Car broke down, garage was owned by someone who had wards up and I didn’t realize it until it was too late to pretend to not react to them. They didn’t do anything, but the next morning I came to get my car, the local hunters had gathered.”

“Jesus….” Stiles knew it could’ve gone horribly wrong, and his heart squeezed in his chest.

“Yeah. They were mostly code followers, except this young guy and his friend I saw at the edge of the group. They thought it would be great to see what would happen if they’d shoot me with regular bullets. Twice.” Derek smiled wryly as he turned his arm around so Stiles could see the mostly healed wound there.

“Warning shots, eh?” Stiles snarked, and Derek ducked his head. He poked at a wound in Derek’s shoulder that hadn’t healed much yet. “And this one?”

“I might’ve wolfed out when they shot me and one of the hunters had a throwing knife obsession. It was coated with something.” Derek looked sheepish.

“For fuck’s sake… what if he’d thrown it in the middle of your chest? Who would’ve notified any of us? Not the hunters, they would’ve just made sure nobody ever knew you were there. Code following hunters who make mistakes like this are just as likely to hide their tracks, you know that.”

Derek ducked his head and looked contrite. Logically, Stiles knew it was bad luck, but hadn’t Derek had enough of that already? He cleaned the knife wound with a neutralizing solution he had for these kinds of emergencies just in case, and glared at Derek when he hissed at the burn of it working.

Stiles bandaged his shoulder and pointed Derek to the bedroom. “Get some rest, I’ll make dinner.”

He heard Derek call him after a few minutes as he was putting the first aid kit away. He went to the bedroom doorway and looked at Derek who sat against the ugly headboard that had come with the house.

“What’s up?”

Derek smiled at him slowly, in the way that told Stiles he was really tired and the healing had truly started. “Thank you.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “For what?” He couldn’t take his eyes off Derek suddenly. The way he looked soft, even with the bloody bandage on his shoulder.

His hair was longer now, he had chest hair, and his body had rounded a little, like he’d stopped the compulsive working out he’d done in the past. He looked… cuddlable.

“Everything. I…. For letting me here, giving me a safe place.”

“Hey, anytime, you know that, right?”

“I guess.”

“Don’t think I won’t call Peter, though.”

Derek’s face did something difficult, and Stiles knew Peter’s feelings were not solitary.

“Don’t tell him I was shot?”

“As if he wouldn’t know that from the way his phone rings or something,” Stiles said dryly. “It’s impossible for me to lie to him.”

Derek nodded slowly and dropped his gaze from Stiles’s face. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. “You two still…?”

“Yeah, but not… recently.” Something made him ask, “Why?”

“No… it’s….” Derek still didn’t look at him.

“You know it’s all mutual, every which way, right?” Stiles stepped closer to the bed and reached a hand to pet Derek’s chest. It was a really nice chest, alright?

Derek’s eyes snapped into his, and he looked so soft and vulnerable and so fucking hopeful it broke Stiles’s heart a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. This doesn’t have to be a drive-by. I don’t know if we could make him settle, or if he has still places to see, but this is my home now. There’s room.” Stiles tried to shrug casually, but probably failed miserably.

Derek’s sudden smile was like the fucking sun. He looked like a Disney prince.

And then the idiot tried to lift his hand, the injured side, of course, and hissed again.

“Stay still, moron,” Stiles murmured, and leaned down to kiss him.

Derek opened to him so sweetly and moaned quietly. Stiles held his face in his hands and kissed Derek like he’d wanted to for a decade. Once he pulled away, Derek blinked tiredly a couple of times.

“Go to sleep. I’ll call Peter and make dinner. I’ll wake you to eat later.” He pecked Derek on the lips once more and basked in the tired smile.

“Okay,” Derek whispered and carefully maneuvered himself under the covers.

Stiles limped into the kitchen and grabbed his phone. Then he put the radio on and sat right next to it to confuse wolfy ears. It would be harder for Derek to listen in, but not impossible and with the music he’d know Stiles wanted privacy.

“Stiles, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Peter asked, sounding genuinely pleased Stiles was calling.

“Derek’s here.” He slouched over the table.

Just as Stiles had known, Peter immediately sounded different. “How bad?”

“Nothing some TLC won’t fix in a day or two. He’s more tired than anything.”

Peter’s sigh was audible. “I’m in Florida, so it’ll take me a while, but I’ll be there as soon as I can get the flights.”

“Peter,” Stiles said quietly.

“Yes?”

Stiles rubbed his forehead with his fingers, took a deep breath, and said, “Only come here if you plan to stay. With us. This is it, Peter.”

Peter’s throat clicked loud enough for Stiles to hear. Then he chuckled quietly. “Like I said, as soon as I can get the flights.”

Stiles smiled.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was more of this in my head, it turns out.

* * *

 

 

Stiles made lasagna, because he had Talia’s recipe—or the approximation of it the Hales had remembered when he’d asked them. It had started back in Beacon Hills, when Stiles had wanted to cook something nice for the pack, and Derek, Cora, and Peter had all remembered bits and pieces of the recipe. They’d perfected it over time after tasting several patches and making suggestions.

While Derek slept, Stiles cooked. He called Dena and asked her to drop by some extra ingredients, because he couldn’t leave the house. He’d promised to watch over Derek’s rest, and he wouldn’t leave him alone.

When she came by an hour later, she wanted to know what was going on. He told her it was a family emergency, kind of, because if the Hales weren’t extended family, then who was? She seemed happy with the excuse, but knew that come Monday, once they were on their lunch break, he would have to have a proper explanation, not just a half-assed one.

Somehow, Derek woke up by himself just in time for the lasagna to be cooled a little.

“That smells lovely,” he murmured sleepily from the kitchen doorway.

Stiles smiled. “Thanks. It’s your mom’s recipe.”

“Like you’d make anything else.” Derek walked to him and wrapped his arms around Stiles from behind.

It was so fucking domestic, like they’d done this forever. Derek buried his face into Stiles’s neck as much as he could in this position. Stiles tilted his head to give him room, and just soaked in the feeling of Derek’s arms around him and his solid body supporting Stiles’s weight.

“Tired?” Derek asked, moving one hand to Stiles’s bad side and pulling some of the pain out.

“Hey, you’re still healing, don’t do that,” Stiles protested quietly. He appreciated the gesture.

“Peter got you the surgeon who didn’t ask questions and I missed the whole thing. I can at least take the pain.” Derek’s tone was off, as if he blamed himself for not being there.

“No. Absolutely not. It was nobody’s fault except the chimaera’s. Sure, Peter made it easier and faster for me to get the care I really needed, but this isn’t a contest. You being there might not have changed anything, or it could’ve changed everything. We’ll never know. Please respect the fact that I get to decide on this, because it’s me who carries the scars,” Stiles said firmly. “Grab the plates.” He pointed at the right cupboard.

Stiles got drinks from the fridge and carried them to the small dining table by the kitchen window. Then he grabbed the lasagna and brought it over, while Derek handled the plates and cutlery.

They ate in silence, which reminded Stiles of the fact that they were almost strangers now. They’d always be pack on some level, and there was always the past, but they needed Peter there to bridge the gap between them and pull them to the current day.

By the time they were done eating and had cleaned the kitchen, Derek was flagging again. It was also late, so Stiles decided it was time to go to bed.

“Let me check the wounds and you can take a shower. I’ll change the sheets and shower after you. Then we can sleep.”

“When will Peter be here?” Derek asked while Stiles was taking off the bandage on his shoulder.

Stiles adored the fact that Derek didn’t question _if_ Peter would come.

“Probably sometime later tonight or tomorrow. Once he gets flights. He’s in Florida somewhere.”

“Okay.”

“These are good. Listen to your body and get cleaned up, and you should be fine,” Stiles said, tossing the bandage in the trash. He then left Derek in the bathroom and went to change the sheets like he’d said he’d do.

They weren’t dirty, he’d changed them a few days ago, but being clean in fresh sheets was a treat every time, and besides, this way, once Peter got there, the bed would smell of Derek and Stiles.

 

Derek showered and came out of the bathroom in Stiles’s robe, looking bashful. It probably wasn’t a big deal for him to be naked, but he’d thought of Stiles and the situation, most likely.

“That,” Stiles pointed at the robe that refused to stay closed, “is a fucking tease if I ever saw one.”

Derek blushed and ducked his head. “I don’t look the same anymore….”

Stiles frowned as he started to undress himself for his own shower. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not a twenty-something anymore.”

“Well I’m not a teenager anymore, either. Even werewolf bodies change. And besides, I’ve scars and shit.” Stiles shrugged. It was something he had to live with, something that had put off a few lovers down the line. He wasn’t as strong as he’d been at his peak at nineteen. It was almost sad to think that he’d peaked in the last year of his teens and then that fucking beast had torn him apart and changed everything.

“Yeah, but I remember how you, Danny, and the girls looked at me back then,” Derek said quietly. He wasn’t looking at Stiles still, and was hiding his face a bit.

“For the record, so did Jackson and Isaac, and Peter, and half of the faculty at the high school.” Stiles, now in his underwear, went to stand in front of Derek and gently took hold of the edges of the robe. He searched Derek’s face for permission, and when he got one, he pushed the robe open.

“So, here’s a thing, Derek Hale,” he started, putting his hands on Derek’s shoulders. “You look different, but not a bit less attractive.  I actually prefer this you now. I love that you stopped working out all the time. I think you did it to punish yourself a bit, didn’t you?” He tilted his head to try and make eye contact with Derek. “And you were fighting or running, too. You aren’t anymore, right?”

Derek nodded thoughtfully. “Suppose so.”

“So now you’re a bit softer. There’s a bit more of you. And I happen to love this body so much. It almost a dad bod, you know? You look like you could be someone’s dad, and you’re hot as fuck, Derek.”

He ran his hands down slowly, cupping Derek’s pecs—he wanted to write sonnets for his tiddies, seriously—and his softer, less defined stomach, and his ever so slightly there love handles.

“I think I’ll stop here tonight,” he said quietly, squeezing Derek’s hips. He really, really didn’t want to stop, but the fact that they were both getting hard and Peter wasn’t there yet made him stop.

Derek cleared his throat. “Yeah, okay.” He’d stood still and let Stiles touch him as he wished, but now he leaned closer and kissed Stiles gently. “Thank you. You look nice, too. Less flaily. That’s an improvement, I think.” He smirked a bit, making Stiles laugh.

“Thanks, I think. Get to bed, I’ll be right with you.”

“Okay. Do you mind if I sleep naked?”

“No, it’s okay. Give me the robe, I’ll put it back in the bathroom.”

Derek blushed again when he gave the robe to Stiles and climbed into bed. Stiles might’ve ogled his ass instead of looking where he was going, and almost ran into the doorframe.

Stiles cursed out loud, and flushed red himself when he heard Derek’s chuckle from under the clean sheets.

 

They were asleep, around the time when it’s not quite morning yet, when Stiles felt the zing from his wards. He startled, which alerted Derek, but he quickly remembered it was probably Peter.

Derek listened and nodded after a moment. “Does he have a key?”

“No, I’m going to go open the door for him.” Stiles slid out of the bed and walked to the front door just in time to hear Peter’s steps from behind it. He opened the door, staying out of the full view of the neighborhood, because he was as naked as Derek.

“Well isn’t this a nice surprise,” Peter purred at him, closing the door behind himself. Then he pulled Stiles close by the waist and scented him, humming contently. “Did you start without me?”

“No. Stop sniffing at my arousal,” Stiles scolded, but stayed still and let Peter scent him as much as he wanted to.

“Not just yours….”

“No, it’s mine as well,” Derek said from the bedroom doorway, and then walked toward them.

Stiles pushed Peter off himself and watched as the wolves stopped a few steps from each other.

“It’s good to see you’re in one piece, nephew.” Peter’s voice was sincere, almost formal, and Stiles realized this was a pack member speaking.

“You as well, uncle,” Derek replied.

Stiles watched from the side as Peter took in Derek’s nudity with a small smirk on his face.

“I feel a little bit overdressed here…,” Peter murmured.

“What time is it?” Stiles asked, glancing at the windows.

Derek looked at him. “Just past four.”

“Do you want to shower the airplane stink off and then join us in bed?” Stiles looked at Peter who nodded.

“Yes, please.”

“You know where everything is, we’re going back under covers, I’m freezing.” Stiles pulled Derek by the arm and they cuddled up under the blankets while Peter went to clean up.

As soon as the shower started to run, Derek hummed thoughtfully. Stiles cuddled closer to him.

“I feel… different, with him here,” Derek said after a while.

“Wolf thing?”

“Yeah, I think so. We might be betas, but he’s still above me in the pecking order, which makes my wolf happy and relaxed. I know how he is, how dangerous he can be. I know I’m safe, and more importantly I know that _you’re_ safe.” Derek kissed his forehead and Stiles sighed happily.

“Things have changed just a little in the last decade, haven’t they?” Stiles grinned against Derek’s chest.

Derek snorted. “You think?”

Stiles hummed contently. Then he asked, “Do you think this will work? All three of us?”

Derek didn’t answer him immediately, and Stiles appreciated that more than he could’ve known.

“I think this is the only way it might work, between any of us.”

The shower turned off and soon Peter walked out, toweling his hair. He looked at them and smiled genuinely. It was a rare expression, Stiles knew, and he felt lucky to be able to see it.

“Room for one more?” Peter asked, as he hung the towel on the armchair in the corner.

“Always. But you got to pick where you want to settle,” Stiles said, fully expecting for Peter to want to get into the middle.

Instead, Peter slid under the covers behind Stiles, then pressed closer until Stiles was sandwiched between the wolves.

“Got to keep the human safe,” Peter murmured into his neck.

Stiles twitched at the ticklish touch and moved to the middle pillow, on his back so he could see both Derek and Peter at the same time. They were on their sides now, and Stiles couldn’t help the snort that bubbled up.

“What?” Peter raised a brow at him.

“He’s thinking something completely ridiculous,” Derek said fondly.

Stiles began to laugh in earnest, and they waited him out patiently, looking at him with amusement.

“I just feel like a kid playing with two Ken-dolls. You know like,”—he mimed holding two dolls in his hands—“‘now kiss.’”

Peter shook his head minutely, but he was smiling. Derek rolled his eyes. Then they looked at each other, glanced at Stiles, and moved in sync to meet in the middle.

Watching them kiss was… everything. Derek seemed to submit to Peter easily, like he’d done with Stiles earlier, and both made such beautiful sounds it made Stiles’s heart and brain melt a little.

Stiles was getting hard just by looking at them, and it seemed like whatever the wolves could smell hit them at the same time. They pulled apart, looked at each other for a few seconds, smirked, and turned their attention to Stiles.

Who meeped. He fucking _meeped_ , when two of the hottest men he’d ever wanted looked at him like they… well, wanted him back.

“Should we show Stiles our gratitude? For making this happen after all these years?” Peter asked Derek in a conversational tone.

Derek hummed thoughtfully, as if he was having hard time deciding.

“I guess so, but how do we decide what to do?” Derek looked at Peter.

“Well, I know that our Little Red here likes to have his holes stuffed as much as he likes to fuck, so I guess it’s up to your likes what we do. I mean, I have you both here, I’m already happy with the situation.” There was an almost-vulnerability to Peter’s tone at the end, and Derek must’ve picked up on it too, because he raised a hand and cupped Peter’s cheek.

“Yeah, we’re both yours, and you’re ours. We’re not going anywhere.”

Peter nodded and closed his eyes, leaning into Derek’s touch for a moment. Then he opened his eyes again and looked at Stiles. “Any preferences, sweetheart?”

“Nah, you two can have your wolfy way with me. Whatever you decide is good.” Then he smiled at them. “And for the record, I’m pretty fucking ecstatic to have you both here, too.”

Derek and Peter looked at each other again, and this time Stiles could tell they were having some sort of a wordless discussion. Before they could get into a conclusion, Stiles piped up. “If I may make a suggestion?”

Peter gave him an indulgent “go ahead” kind of look.

“We know Peter and I have had this relationship going on for years, but Derek and I have never….”

“Mhmm, so what’s your suggestion?” Derek asked, smiling at him.

“Could I taste you? I just… what Peter said is right. I… my mouth is watering, Derek. Can I suck you off?”

Derek made a helpless little sound and Peter groaned.

“Yeah, we can do that. Do you want Peter to fuck you at the same time?”

“Oh yeah… that sounds… yes, please.” Stiles swallowed the saliva in his mouth and couldn’t help the slightly spinny feeling in his head when he realized what was about to happen.

In short order, Derek moved to lean against the headboard and spread his legs for Stiles to settle in between. He scrambled to do so, and Peter balanced him with a firm hand on his hip.

“If you start to hurt, let me know and I’ll draw the pain,” he said, palm on top of the worst scarring.

“Yeah,” Stiles grunted, distracted at the ever so lovely cock in front of him.

Peter pinched the skin on his ass. “I mean it, Stiles. Everything stops the moment you’re in pain and didn’t tell us.”

Derek cupped Stiles’s jaw and looked him in the eyes. “He’s right. You tell us. Otherwise we’ll just try to smell it and that’s not what I want to be concentrating on when you’re in between my legs for the first time.” His smirk was such a beautiful thing it made Stiles feel a bit choked up.

“Yeah, I will. Promise.”

“Good,” Peter said and squeezed his ass. “Now, show Derek what you can do with your mouth.”

And Stiles did. He had always had an oral fixation, and at some point it had started to pay off in his sex life. He tended to leave his partners satisfied, because oral fixation combined with the inherent need to take care of people he considered his wasn’t a bad thing to have.

Derek whined when Stiles moaned around his mouthful. Peter had just slipped his tongue inside Stiles and rimming always made him a bit scattered.

“You look so hot doing that, both of you,” Derek managed to say. “So beautiful.”

Stiles caught the tone from earlier, the one where Derek wasn’t quite as confident in himself, but luckily so did Peter. As much as Stiles loathed for Peter to take his mouth away from his ass, this was far more important.

“You look incredible as well, Derek,” Peter assured. “To see you looking healthy like this… it’s the best thing I could imagine. You’re still just as strong and agile, I’m sure of that, but this….” Peter reached past Stiles to squeeze the meat of Derek’s thighs. “I never thought I would want someone as much as I want Stiles, but….”

Derek blushed, ducked his head, and let out a choked gasp, because Stiles chose to take him into his throat at that same moment. Positive reinforcement, that was a thing, right?

Peter went back to rimming Stiles, but this time he added fingers and then lube, and in short order Stiles was exactly where he’d wanted to be since he was… well, probably younger than he should’ve been, to be honest.

With Peter fucking him deep and slow and amazing, and Derek fisting his hair and making the best sounds ever while Stiles blew him to oblivion, yeah… best morning ever!

 

He woke up feeling sticky, too hot, crusty, and definitely mildly disgusting, but then he opened his eyes and saw that he was spooning Derek who had cuddled up to Peter’s chest, and none of the icky stuff mattered.

Peter opened his eyes and smiled at him. The emotion in the blue eyes made Stiles swallow hard against a rush of… love. He knew Peter could read him, because the wolf’s smile turned into something gentle as he mouthed “I love you” at Stiles.

Derek made a sniffly little sound as he started to wake up, and Stiles pressed his lips to his shoulder.

“Good morning, sweethearts,” Peter murmured out loud as soon as Derek was conscious again.

Derek hummed happily. “Mornin’.”

Stiles tried to move, but his hip spasmed, the pain making him whine out loud in its suddenness.

The wolves moved as one, and quicker than Stiles had thought possible, he was deposited between them, with both of their hands on him, drawing pain to the point of Stiles feeling high as fuck in ten second flat.

“Whoa, ease up there guys,” he slurred out. He tried to push their hands away but could barely control his arms. “Seriously. Stop.”

Peter did as told first, then took Derek’s hand away from Stiles’s skin as well.

“Thank you. Just… less is more, okay?” Stiles said, his head clearing immediately. “I need a shower and breakfast. Could you two help me with those instead?”

“Peter does make mean pancakes,” Derek pondered out loud teasingly.

“Well then Peter will go make pancakes while you two get clean,” Peter snarked, but Stiles could tell he was happy to be providing for them.

“We need a new house rule,” Stiles said as they got out of bed.

“Oh?” Derek glanced at him curiously.

“Yeah, the chef gets a blowjob and the rest clean the kitchen.”

“I think I kind of like that,” Peter purred and came to hug Stiles close before scenting him affectionately.

“Does this mean I have to learn how to cook?” Derek whined mockingly.

“Ordering in doesn’t count, I’m afraid, so probably,” Peter told him and scented him as well before pulling on some clothes and heading to kitchen.

“There’s incentive if you ever needed any,” Stiles reasoned.

“Suppose so,” Derek grumbled as they went into the bathroom.

“I wonder if that sort of thing can turn into Pavlovian,” Stiles mused as he turned on the water.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, eventually you start getting hard while chopping carrots anywhere or even opening the fridge. Oh, what if it’s just the sight of food? Restaurants would be so much fun. Or, or like Thanksgiving! Oh my God, what if….”

Stiles continued to talk, his mind going a mile per minute, completely missing the expression of pure adoration on Derek’s face and the chuckle from Peter who was listening to them while cracking eggs in the kitchen.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dearest Greenie, you said you wanted to see Hoech/Derek in that one gif being taken care of by Stiles. Then this happened.


End file.
